It's not all bad
by SophieSaulie
Summary: Dean assesses his life and Sam finds something he wasn't supposed to.


**It's not all bad**

Dean lay back on the lumpy motel room bed, unable to shut his mind off for the night. He looked over and saw Sam happily snoozing away. He couldn't suppress a smile at the peaceful look on his face. For now, there were no nightmares to mar his features and he hoped they would leave him alone for just tonight. He looked back up at the ceiling and allowed his thoughts to drift. As always after defeating another lurking evil, the both of them were banged up and bandaged. Pain was an everyday part of Dean's life and the more he was subjected to it, the stronger his tolerance for it became. Didn't mean it wasn't there, but he had learned to live with its presence. He was grateful that for tonight nothing had been broken on both their parts. They just had a lot of cuts and bruises and would definitely be sore.

As his thoughts continued to wander, he found himself assessing his life. Sam had once asked him if he had any dreams of his own. Even the shape shifter had made Sam question Dean's real desire, but deep down, he was already living his desire. He was trained as a hunter, was good at it, could never do anything else really and didn't want to. He was always aware in the back of his mind that he would be doing it alone someday. If he desired anything, it was to have Sam by his side, but he knew it was a selfish wish and that Sam would only be around long enough to find their dad or defeat the demon, whichever came first, then leave to lead his own life. His mind understood it, but his heart would always hope…and ache silently.

Sam wasn't completely unhappy, but Dean knew that deep down, he wanted to be normal, to be away from this life and maybe in a small way, away from him. He didn't take offense to it. He'd known since Sam was a teenager that his need to be free of his family was a lot stronger than most kids who wanted to have a life of their own. Their father didn't make life any easier either. Hell, even he wanted to escape at times. Still, he didn't know whether it was because he was older or because he had tasted what normal family life was like, but all he wanted was his family together, or at least connecting once in awhile, not this distance that made him worry that the next time they saw each other would be at one of their funerals and that's if they were lucky enough to know. He pushed the morbid thoughts from his mind.

It wasn't all bad, this life of his. Beyond the excitement of saving people and killing all things evil, he enjoyed the simple pleasures because they were always fleeting in their line of work and he could never take them for granted, like a woman gracing him with a sweet smile of flirtation and if he was lucky, her affections, even if only for a night. He could never live without that affection. Dean wasn't a saint nor was he a monk and didn't want to be either. Contrary to how Sam perceived his appreciation for the feminine form, which was only lechery, within Dean was a deep gratitude that any woman would give him a little of her time and attention. Sometimes just a peck on the cheek to thank him would always come as an unexpected, pleasant, and grateful surprise, especially when it came honestly.

His recognition of feminine beauty was part idolatry and part admiration, with maybe a healthy dose of lustfulness. Truth be told, what Sam never saw behind the façade of the morning after conquest he put up, was that he had always treated every encounter as making love to a woman. It was never empty meaningless sex to him. He never objectified any woman he had met. He liked to think that he did his best to romance a woman while making love to her, knowing that he could never commit to more. He never lied to a woman about that. Yes, he lied about whom he was, and he did have to admit that sometimes his "stories" did border on the "fantastic", but even Sam had to concede that no one would believe the truth about what they did, still, he never led them on about anything long term. He always gave them the grace of gratitude they deserved for their presence in his life even for that one brief moment. Every word sincere and from what he could give of his heart.

Though Sam dreamed of a white-picket-fence life, Dean didn't because he couldn't subject anyone he cared about to the life he chose to lead. He couldn't put anyone he loved in danger and though there was a part of him that wouldn't mind having kids, he could never do what his father did. He could never bring his children into the dark world he lived in. It was a world that had touched him and Sam through no fault of their father's, but he knew that if he let himself give in, he would, by choice, be subjecting his family to a life he would never wish on any family, having experienced it first hand. If he told Sam, he would defend his right to have that dream. He would tell him to walk away from the dark and live that life as if it was as simple as just making the choice. Sam was idealistic and hopeful, but Dean knew better and he had no regrets over the decision. He wanted Sam to have that choice. It wasn't a sacrifice for him.

He never took for granted any of the moments he had with Sam and would appreciate the time for as long as he could. They had all the usual brotherly disputes, but deep down they each knew the other had their back. It was an appreciation that never had to be expressed, at least not in Dean's opinion. He couldn't stop being protective of Sam any more than he could stop breathing. It was second nature. When they were little and Sam had clung to him for company and for affection, he came to like it. He liked being depended on, to be needed and he still did to this day. When Sam grew into the not-too-unexpected rebellious teenage years, he pulled away from him and their father. Dean's rebellion was kept outside of the family. He had been trained too well by his father that orders were to be carried out, not questioned. Sam never learned that lesson, at least not when it came to their father. Dean would lend his "services" to be a bodyguard for someone being picked on at school. He would sometimes ask for a small payment, usually a couple of bucks or some favorite lunch snack, but he did most of it for free. From the very start, he hated anyone being taken advantage of so he would self-proclaim himself a protector on principle alone. His training made him virtually invincible against any bully. He became a legend at school. Though he didn't know it then, it was the beginning to the life he would lead.

The hardest memories to relive were the fights between Sam and their father. Dean tried his best not to take sides, but he found himself being asked more than once. Most of the time, he would just walk away, unable to choose between his brother and their father. They both meant too much to him. Sam had never been one to follow blindly, father or not. More often than not, he'd have to put himself in between them, sometimes deflecting a push by Sam or a shove back by their father. Playing referee to their battles was heartbreaking for him. The more they fought, the larger the divide became between them. He also discovered that Sam was his father's child, they were alike, stubborn and uncompromising. So many times Dean had to play the voice of reason to keep them from fighting 24/7 or least play peacemaker and create a ceasefire until the next salvo was fired by one of them. He often wondered if their mom had lived, would she have played diplomat instead of him or did her death inevitably cause the rift between Sam and their dad. He'd never know the answer.

His thoughts then strayed to their mom. He still missed her. In so many ways, he was grateful for his memories of her and wished that he could do more to make her come alive for Sam, but he could only give him the scant pictures of her that he had and a description of her that could never do her justice. He remembered her as loving with a completeness that he could still feel whenever he needed to recall her warm embrace and the secure feeling it gave him. When she told him that she was having a baby boy and that it would make him a big brother, she had sold him on being Sam's protector. She had made it sound important, vital, and heroic like the characters in the bedtime stories she used to read to him. She told him that he had to be brave and strong as a big brother. When she died, he had remembered what she had said, and had shared that with Lucas, the boy from Lake Manitoc, who he had bonded with. Every day he spent fighting demons, he kept that thought in his mind and it would help him face anything. He had to be brave for Sam, for mom.

When Sam left to go to Stanford, he had missed him terribly the entire time he was away. Sam never called, choosing to disconnect completely, even from Dean. That had hurt the most in Dean's eyes. He had tried calling him, but only got his voicemail. He had left messages, but they were never returned so he stopped leaving them. It left Dean feeling cold, alone and empty, but never resentful. Their mother's words always came back to remind him that Sam was his little brother and that he had to love him no matter what, that sometimes little brothers didn't always know what was best for them. Still, when their father went missing, he went looking for Sam and brought him back to help him. He knew that he wasn't staying with him because of the brotherly companionship or, at least not solely for that reason. Dean knew that Sam valued it, but it was not the reason he continued to travel with him. Losing Jess was his driving force, just like their father, revenge, loss and vengeance were his reasons to keep hunting. Saving people was just a fringe benefit for him. He liked helping people, but it was just a means to an end, which was finding their father then the thing that had killed Jess.

There was only one time in his life when he questioned the work and his purpose. Layla. To this day, a part of him couldn't shake the injustice of his life having been saved and hers not. It was the only time he had doubted that they had done the right thing. Sam didn't know it, but when the reaper was after him, he hadn't run away. He had wanted to exchange his life for hers so that she could live. In his mind, she had deserved it more, that, coupled with the man who had been sacrificed to save him and Dean had his first and only "crisis of faith", a waver in his convictions. When the reaper had him, he didn't fight it, couldn't once he was in his grip. The pain was agonizing. It was like the reaper was squeezing his life force out, stealing his breath, and like the others, his death would mirror Layla's illness so he felt the pain in his brain rip into him like it was being shredded. He placed his life in the hands of fate and Sam. If Sam couldn't stop Sue Ann, then Dean would gladly consider his life for Layla's a fair trade and meant to be, but Sam had succeeded and he had been spared again. After talking with Layla before they left Nebraska, her faith had mended his a little. It took him awhile, but he kept looking at Sam and how much he had wanted to save him and couldn't fault him. He would have done the same if it had been Sam's life. Layla's memory still stayed with him, but it no longer haunted him. In a way, having been saved twice convinced him that he couldn't waste the opportunities he had been given. Maybe Roy really did see something in him that made his life worth saving.

Dean found that letting his thoughts drift wasn't working and that he wasn't any sleepier than he had been 30 minutes ago. He looked over at Sam and was glad to see that he was still in peaceful slumber. Dean was really worried about him. So many upsetting and mysterious things were happening to him and there was nothing he could do. He hated being helpless and useless to Sam. All he could do was be there for him, which he knew he appreciated, but Sam had always been the impatient one, the one who needed all of the answers and right now. Dean was the calmer one, but it was a calm that came more from self-control than an inner peace. He would do anything for his brother. If he could, he would give him all the answers he needed.

Dean got up from the bed and went over to where his bag was and lifted out their dad's journal. The weathered leather and the heft of its contents gave Dean a rush of emotions. He missed their dad as much as Sam and wanted to find him soon if only for Sam's sake. He opened the book and went straight to the back of it. There was a hidden slot cut into the leather cover that wasn't easily noticeable if you weren't looking for it. Dean reached in and pulled out some folded papers. They looked worn and tattered as if they had been unfolded many times for examination. At the top of one of the pages were the words, Last Will and Testament. Dean looked down and read the name. It was his own.

About a year before their dad went missing, Dean had a close call with a demon on a hunt. He had killed it, but it had torn him open pretty badly. Their dad had taken him to the hospital and he had come close to dying then, but the doctors had said that Dean's will to live seemed indomitable and they believed he had survived on that will alone. Dean had told his dad not to call Sam when they weren't sure he was going to make it. He told him it was not the way he wanted to bring Sam back to the family.

_**Flashback**_

"_Dean! Dean!" His father's voice echoed through the incredible pain. _

_The demon had cut into his torso from the top of his left shoulder to his right hip and the immediate blood loss, brought Dean to his knees. He felt himself sinking to the ground when he heard his father's voice._

_The next thing he felt were arms holding him from hitting the ground._

"_Dean, Dean, stay with me, son." His father said._

_Dean lazily looked over to his dad and smiled. _

"_I killed the son of a bitch, dad." He gasped._

"_That you did, son and I'm proud of you, but it got a lick in too and you're bleeding bad. I have to get you to a hospital and call your bro –"_

_Dean grabbed his dad's shirt._

"_No, dad, don't call Sam."_

"_Dean, he has to know. For all my differences with him, he's your brother, he loves you and he'd want to know."_

_Dean shook his head and grunted his words out.  
_

"_Don't…worry…him…unless…there's something to tell him…please, dad, for me…I don't…want…this to be why he comes back…I won't have him…feel guilty…stay because of me…he deserves a life of his own…I won't…take that away…from him…I won't let you either…I've always done what you ask…please do this one thing for me…p..pl…please?"_

_John didn't have to time argue with his eldest son who could have been bleeding to death in his arms so he nodded his head and then lifted him in his arms. Dean cried out in agony and it tore John's heart out to see his son hurt like that._

Dean found himself unconsciously rubbing his chest remembering it. His heart had stopped beating twice that first night, his dad told him. The doctors seemed sure he wouldn't make it to the morning, but he defied them all. Dean smiled to himself. He liked defying odds. He liked sticking it to the demons they faced. For every demon he wasted, there was one less thing on this earth that could hurt an innocent person or family. He thrived on every victory.

Shortly thereafter, Dean had decided to go to a lawyer and get a will done just in case. The brush with death was enough to make him realize that he didn't want to leave Sam feeling alone in this world. The will wasn't much, they didn't have many possessions between the three of them, but Dean had kept some things unbeknownst to both Sam and their father. There were some things of their mom's that he had taken from her jewelry case. He had been afraid that their father would get rid of everything that belonged to her out of grief, not wanting any reminders of their loss. There were also pictures. He wanted to make sure he had some pictures of her so that Sam would always know how beautiful and full of life she had been and that dying was the last thing on her mind. He even kept one with him in his wallet so that he could look at it every once in awhile to keep reminding him to be brave, as she had always wanted him to be.

He also left instructions for Sam just in case something really bad happened to him. It was always a possibility. He never wanted to put him in the position to have to decide whether he lived or died. He already knew what he wanted done and even though it would still be hard for Sam, all he'd have to do was give the doctors the go-ahead and know that it was the right thing to do. No second guessing necessary. Most importantly, he needed Sam to know that he wanted his remains to be salted and burned so that no evil thing could ever use him against Sam or anyone else.

He never thought he would make those kinds of arrangements. It's not like he thought he was invincible, if anything, he understood the risks and was a realist about his life expectancy, but when he had come so close to dying that time, it suddenly became not about him. It became about taking care of Sam. He knew how to do that in life, but who would do it when he was gone? Dad? He didn't think so. Though he loved their father, he wasn't equipped to comfort and be supportive and their relationship was barely a relationship as it was.

With the will, he had also left a letter, telling him things he needed to know. In a surprising way, doing all that had given him the peace of mind he needed. He hoped that he had done all that he could so that when he was gone, Sam could go on without him.

He hurriedly folded the papers back up and put them into their hiding place again when he heard Sam moan awake.

"Dean?" said Sam.

"Hey, there, sorry, did I wake you up?'

"Nah, just woke up."

"No nightmares, I hope."

"Nah."

"Good."

"Couldn't sleep?" Sam asked.

"Yeh, too much on my mind, I guess."

"Anything I can help with?" Sam asked as he got up out of bed.

Dean smiled in Sam's direction.

"Nah. Nothing evil lurking in here." Dean assured as he pointed to his head.

"Already knew that. Not much else is either." Sam smiled.

"Smart ass." Dean threw back.

"What time is it?"

"5:30."

"Feel like breakfast?" Sam asked.

"Sounds good."

"'Kay, let me get ready." Sam said as he got out of bed and into the bathroom to take a shower.

Dean closed their dad's journal and laid his rambling thoughts to rest for now.

**oooo**

While Dean was showering, Sam looked over at their dad's journal on the table and began flipping through it absent-mindedly. He got to the back and noticed a wedged piece of paper that he had never seen before. He pulled it out and unfolded it. He then realized it was more than one page. The first page surprised Sam. It was a will, Dean's will. Behind it was a letter. He started reading it.

_Sammy,_

_I'm sorry I left you. Believe me, if there was any way I could have stayed with you, short of becoming a zombie or something, I would have, but I know that what we do is risky, that either one of us might not make it someday. I'm just glad I was the one who went first because even though I hate chick flick moments, bottom line is that I never would have survived if something ever happened to you. _

_There's something I never told you and it's something you should know. Don't blame dad because I told him not to tell you, but your second year at college, a demon nearly killed me. Nothing more you need to know other than it didn't and I killed its sorry ass. Ever since though, it made me think. Though I've always known that all we have is each other, I didn't want that to be all you had when I was gone. I didn't want our lives together to be just about the hunting. Deep down underneath all that, we're brothers, man. I couldn't have asked for a better brother and I am proud of you for everything you have done with your life._

_Though the three of us don't have much between us, besides ammo, weapons and holy water, I needed to settle my affairs to leave behind something more than sarcasm. So I went to a lawyer, yeh, me and a lawyer and don't act so surprised. I had a will done. Sorry, but I'm not some rich eccentric that was adopted by the Winchester family, but I did keep some things like some of mom's stuff that I wanted you to know that I had and pass them on to you. I won't inventory it here, you'll just have to find out for yourself, but also, when I came close to dying that time, I realized that no one knew what I wanted, like if I wanted to be kept alive by a machine or how I wanted my funeral. I mean, given the family business, it's amazing that the subject never came up. Maybe it was denial. I didn't even want to consider you dying and the arrogant bastard in me promised myself that I would never let it happen. Anyway, I wanted you to have the answers to those questions in case it ever came to that. No, I don't want to be kept alive by machines. The idea frightens me to hell. You know me, man. I need to move, to do something, to kill some monster son of a bitch and okay, to have control. If I can't control even the smallest bit of my body, I want out. No arguments. I know it'll be hard for you to do it, but you have to know it's what I want. As for a funeral, other than you and dad, I don't think anyone would come to my funeral, not sad about it, just the facts of a life on the road. I'm pretty convinced I won't know about it either way so I'll leave that up to you and dad, but my body, I want it burned and salted. Don't leave anything of me behind, you hear me? I've seen too much in our line of work, I guess, but given all I have done, the good and the bad, I don't want anything taking over my body and doing harm to anyone, especially you. No trace, Sam. I mean it._

_Anyway, that's it. Only thing left to say or maybe more accurately to ask is that you live. Don't let what happened to me stop you from living your life. I want you to know that I would hate that and wouldn't want that. I lived so that you could live and I don't regret it, never did._

_Dean_

Sam's eyes were swollen with unshed tears when Dean emerged from the bathroom, dressed. When he saw what was happening, he cringed that he had been so careless.

"Crap." He said, realizing what had happened.

Sam looked up.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

Dean took in a breath and sat down the on the bed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to see that, at least not until I was dead."

"Don't make fun of this, Dean!" Sam yelled. "How could you not tell me what happened!"

Dean didn't blame Sam for being angry. He had every right to be and let Sam rant.

"I'm not making fun of this, Sam. Why do you think I did all this? I took what happened to me really seriously, probably more seriously than I have ever taken anything."

Sam looked into his eyes and softened a little. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself realizing that Dean wasn't being flip and had a humorless look on his face, which was completely unlike him.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but hear me out before you go off on me, okay?"

Sam nodded.

"Dad wanted to call you and tell you, but I made him promise not to. The reason wasn't because I was mad at you being at college or anything else you might come up with in that head of yours. I didn't want you to know because I didn't want that to be a reason for you to come back…I knew you would because you'd worry and you care so it wasn't about you not coming, it was about you staying for all the wrong reasons…"

"I don't understand." Sam said calmly frustrated.

"Sam, you had fought so hard to make a life of your own. I was so proud of you and wanted that for you. If dad had called you and you came back, which I knew you would, you'd have give up your studies because that's the kind of brother you are…you would stay to make sure I'd be okay and eventually you'd leave your dreams behind to take care of me. I just couldn't let you do that."

"Don't you think that was my decision to make?"

"I know you'll get pissed at me for saying this, but no, because it was my life and I had a say in it too. Besides, I know you, little brother, as much as I would have appreciated the sacrifice, it wasn't one you should have to make. You've made too many already for the sake of this family."

Sam couldn't argue that, not everything revolved around him and what he had wanted. He had learned that harsh lesson when Jess died.

"But what if you had died, I wouldn't have been able to –"

"To what? Say goodbye?" Dean finished. "Sam, we didn't need to say those things, at least, I didn't think we did. You left for college, we didn't fight, there were no harsh words said, no regrets, at least not for me. We lived our goodbye, Sam. I knew you loved me and you don't even need to ask how I feel. What was there to say, huh? Having a chick flick moment at my death bed wouldn't say more than we already knew, would it?"

Sam had to admit Dean was right.

"No. I suppose not."

Sam then smiled at him.

"So, you leaving me the car?"

"Hell no!" Dean teased.


End file.
